Operation Vanille
by Honey Funny Bunny
Summary: In which Sazh babysits, Vanille fakes happiness, and Hope goes on a mission in the City of Dreams.
1. Dualcasting

**Author's Note**: The events don't follow that of the game's story; in this fic, Hope travels with Sazh and Vanille instead of following Lightning. Also, this is a threeshot. Initially it was supposed to be a oneshot, but it became longer than I'd planned. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Final Fantasy XIII.

* * *

Hope wasn't sure how they'd ended up there, but after a blur of overwhelming events, he, Sazh, and Vanille were now standing at Nautilus Station, the entrance to the fabled City of Dreams. Somehow, by some stroke of luck—or looming misfortune, it was too early to tell, and Hope had always been a skeptic—the trio had actually reached their destination without any sign of PSICOM predators on their tails.

As Hope looked on at the bright, busy city that came into view before him, he found it hard to believe that they had just come from the Sunleth Waterscape of Cocoon. It was like they had entered another world that had been waiting for them beyond the smell of damp earth and the illuminated canopies of trees—or, perhaps, returned to a different version of the world they'd left behind.

"Wow," Sazh said, his low, breathy tone suggesting the awe and wonderment that Hope now felt rising in his chest. "Take a look at this place."

Hope nodded wordlessly. Having come from the lush, forested hills and incredible wildlife of the Sunleth Waterscape and the metal mountains of rusty scrappage in the Vile Peaks before that, Nautilus was a fresh, welcoming reminder of a normal society's continuation of existence. The doubtless knowledge that they wouldn't encounter any Flandragoras or Scalebeasts here allowed him to relax a little, to pull his hand away from its subconscious grip on his Airwing. He had never known that he could miss the excited bustling of people looking forward to a centripetal event; back in Palumpolum, when everything had been normal and he wasn't half an orphan and the skin on his wrist underneath the yellow cloth tied there was still bare, he disliked crowds and the cacophony they created, the headaches they induced. But now he found himself closing his eyes and listening to it, absorbing all the unique sounds of the instruments—the innocent giggles and shouts of children, the firm but caring voices of parents telling their sons and daughters not to wander off, the general hum of anticipation for the upcoming parade.

When he opened his eyes, mirthful lights twinkled at him from every which way. The whole city was lambent, with a warm, happy ambience over the place that casted golden glows around every individual. In the near distance, beyond the passageway to Nautilus Park, he could see lights of different colors within the amusement park that seemed to have fallen straight from the vespertine stars that, in turn, vanished into dark invisibility within the night sky. The lights—clusters of neon lines and tiny beads of all colors imaginable—were almost magical, like they were whispering amongst each other and smiling benevolently at him as they gently absorbed the countless worries that clouded his mind, converting it into the energy that kept them alive and shining.

His chest tightened with ambivalence from the sights and sounds of it all, but at the same time, his mind felt freer and lighter than before. Though he didn't know just yet if he liked it or not, let alone if he should be, he was feeling more at ease. The knots inside his stomach were coming undone, one by one, and the burdensome weights of fear and sadness on his shoulders and in his chest were slowly being lifted. Hope did little to hinder the strange workings of Nautilus's spell.

He still maintained his cautious alertness—it had become instinctive by this point in their journey—but, at that moment, it was far less heightened than it had been in the Vile Peaks or the Sunleth Waterscape.

"Can we go see the parade?" He turned to Sazh and Vanille, looking right into their faces. In his voice, he could hear a tone of almost childlike excitement. It sounded odd and unfitting, even to his own ears. He coughed once to get rid of it, quickly feigning indifference instead. "I mean, since we're here, we might as well, right?"

Vanille didn't respond. Her expression was unreadable and her fingers were wrapped around each other as she gazed at the floor beneath her boots. Hope stared at her, waiting for her to say something, but Sazh spoke first.

"Well…" Sazh raised his eyebrows in surprise at Hope's question—he clearly had not expected it from him—but he was smiling in agreement. Hope could tell that he'd had the same idea. "I'm all for it. We've got the time, haven't we? I don't see any of them soldiers around here."

As if on cue, a woman speaking in a recorded message suddenly played through a system of overhead loudspeakers, instigating a soft gasp and a chirp of surprise from Vanille and Sazh's Chocobo chick. "Welcome to Nautilus, the City of Dreams and home of Cocoon's entertainment capital, Nautilus Park." Her tone of voice was enthusiastic but professional, like how Hope imagined a smiling female robot to talk like. "Our Pompa Santca parade will begin shortly. Please head over to the park square."

The crowds of people lingering in the station began to flock to the park entrance, a loud buzz of tangible vivacity surrounding everyone as they relocated. The high spirits and energy were contagious; Sazh was humming a merry tune as he walked on slightly ahead of them, his jacketed arms swinging back and forth in a goofy manner, and, though Hope tried to fight against it by pursing his lips, he was ultimately powerless against the impulse to smile. Because it was in fact the City of Dreams, Nautilus had the kind of gravity that was able to effortlessly tug at the corners of people's mouths.

"To the park square it is, then!" Sazh said cheerfully, facing the two of them as he stepped in front. An exaggeratedly stern frown came over his countenance, but his eyes retained their good-natured glint. "Come on, kiddies. Stay close now, and don't go wandering off on your own!" He spoke jokingly, but Hope could hear the paternal undertones to his words. He smiled to himself and followed closely behind Sazh.

"I heard they got an area full of Chocobos, too," Sazh went on, stretching his arms behind him and resting his hands on the back of his head. He gave a small, barely audible sigh and added under his breath, "If only Dajh were with me now."

Hope knew from the melancholy softness of his whisper that it had been a voiced afterthought better left alone rather than to fuel with expressions of sympathy. Still, he took an extra step forward to catch up with Sazh and matched the pace of his footsteps with his. Walking silently alongside Sazh, he felt the tender sense of protection and security that had always surrounded him whenever he had been with his mother. It was a subtle whisper, disguised as a quiet breeze in the cool night air, that told him that everything would be okay no matter the present circumstances, and hearing it now caused Hope both to smile and swallow a lump, the familiar onset of tears, in his throat.

"Hey, um…" Vanille began to speak, her voice unusually soft and timid as opposed to the perky, blithesome tone Hope had become accustomed to after being around her the past few weeks. He turned around, his attention immediately going to her hands and face. Her thin fingers were twisting and untwisting themselves, and, unlike him and Sazh, she wasn't smiling, as he'd thought she'd be, especially in a place like Nautilus Park. The sanguine attitude she'd shown during their traipse thus far had led him to believe that once they'd gotten to Nautilus, she would reach the peak of her effervescence and scamper all throughout the park, dragging him and Sazh to every single attraction. Before hasty concern for Vanille's uncharacteristic behavior could fully take a hold on him, however, she lifted her head and gave him the delayed smile he'd been expecting. Still, he was dubious. "You two go ahead. I'll wait here."

This bewildered both Sazh and Hope, but Sazh seemed to think less of it. Hope looked up at him; he was scratching at the back of his head, casually pondering the matter at hand. "You sure, Vanille? You don't want to come see the parade? I heard it's pretty amazing." He added with a grin in an effort to lighten her mood, "And historically educational, too. Aren't you kids supposed to be into that kind of thing?"

Vanille gave a giggle, but it was unnaturally high and lacked a happy genuineness. Hope's chest squeezed tightly upon cognizance. It was the same kind of laugh that he used to hear his mother give to his father during tense situations—troubled, but carefully sugarcoated with fake lightheartedness in order to ease the strained atmosphere.

"I've seen it before, and it _is_ amazing," Vanille was saying. "So don't let me keep you here! You should definitely go see it!"

"You don't want to watch?" Hope asked.

She shook her head. "I guess I don't really feel like it." Her head tilted downwards, Vanille rubbed at her arm, maintaining her grin all the while. "But it's perfectly fine! I mean, I'm fine. Peachy, in fact!"

"Then, you're just going to stand around here?" he pressed on, hesitant. Honestly, he didn't know why he was probing deeper into the matter than usual. Maybe Vanille was seasick, tired, or wanted some time to herself, or maybe it was all of the above. Being an introvert all his life, Hope could identify with that periodical wish for solitude, that desire to want the world to stop spinning for a minute so that his muddled mind could try to sort itself out. But he was still a bit curious as to why Vanille was suddenly acting unlike herself. Back in the Pulse Vestige, the Vile Peaks, and the Sunleth Waterscape, she had been bouncy and chipper, animatedly blathering about numerous things. Admittedly, Hope had been more than slightly annoyed that she was brimming with spirit in the middle of all that was going on while he was still struggling to wrap his brain around everything, but now she seemed different, her enthusiasm artificial, and it was strange, like something heavy and intangible was hanging above her, thieving her of her real energy.

Trying not to sound upset or worried, he used one of Lightning's frequent conversational tactics and spoke impassively. "What are you going to do all by yourself?"

"Why, I'll stay here and wait for you guys, of course!" She noticed Hope's unconvinced expression and flashed him a radiant grin. "Oh, Hope, don't be such a worrywart! Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't protect myself!" She unsheathed her Binding Rod to further her point. "See? I've got my trusty friend right here. And have you already forgotten? I'm not all smiles and—"

"Sunshine," Sazh and Hope chorused with simultaneous groans, and Vanille giggled, nodding. It occurred to him then that he was probably overthinking it—or being a "worrywart", as she'd just said. Hope sighed, but she was virtually irresistible with that grin and silly saying of hers. He returned it with a small, uneasy smile of his own and glanced up at Sazh for the final word.

The older man shrugged his shoulders. "We gentlemen have to respect the lady's wishes, now, don't we? Okay, Vanille. We'll see you later then?"

She bobbed her head up and down in an earnest nod. "Yes you will!" Her arm already waving in the air, she started to walk backwards in the direction of Nautilus Station. Hope couldn't help but to stare dumbly after her, in all her pink and orange brightness, donned in clothes that, he realized with a sweeping surge of uncomfortable warmth on his skin, hardly served their purpose.

"Wait!" Hope called out to her before his mind had formed the conscious decision to do so. She twirled around slowly, meeting his gaze, and he froze. Her large green eyes looked questioningly into his, her pale apricot lips slightly parted, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat and his pulse skip without warning. Flustered by the odd and unexpected effects, he broke eye contact and hurriedly sifted through his thoughts, trying to remember what he'd stopped her for. It took him more than a few seconds to recall.

"Uh, hold on," he mumbled to fill in the awkward lull of silence as he reached around his neck and, with fingers that were suddenly shaky, clumsily undid the knot there. As he absentmindedly toyed with the cloth, he sent a cautious glance her way.

She was walking towards him, the multicolored bangles on her wrists emitting soft metallic tinkling noises as she moved. Her hands were touching as they hovered over her chest and she scrunched her forehead, her pale red eyebrows knitting together—all signs of her confusion, he knew. Regardless, he removed his neckerchief and, without looking directly at Vanille, handed it to her.

She stared at it and then looked back to him. Her flummoxed mien was already causing a string of multiple scoldings in Hope's head, making him wish he hadn't done anything in the first place. "Hope… What—"

"Just—I—it's—" He stammered under Vanille's inquiring gaze until finally he muttered, "My neck was hot." It was initially a lie—albeit a thinly veiled one—but after what he'd said registered, his neck, as well as his ears and the rest of his face, did indeed become warm. He quickly turned away so that she wouldn't see him visibly reddening. "S-see you."

With that last unrefined utterance, he ran back, not daring to chance a peek behind him, to where Sazh was waiting, scratching at his head while his Chocobo chick floated above his shoulder. Hope slowed his gait and the two continued in the opposite direction from Vanille towards the park square.

For a while, no one said anything, and Hope was grateful for the silence. He kept his head ducked as he tried to forget what had just happened. Why had he done it, anyway? It wasn't like it was particularly cold that evening, and though she had a thin build and showed plenty of skin in her Oerban outfit, Vanille was, impressively enough, still capable of bearing chilly weather. Of the two nights they'd spent in the Sunleth Waterscape, she had slumbered like a log both times, right on the dewy grass and without a blanket in the brisk Cocoon night.

"So, uh, Hope." Returning to reality, Hope realized that he'd been staring straight into one of the white plastic orbs that lighted up the walkway. Blinking the resulting streams of lights away from his eyes, he raised his head and saw Sazh button up his shirt until it fully covered the brand on his chest. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened back there? With Vanille?" His voice was void of any motives or expectation; he was purely curious, and, to some of Hope's relief, innocuously so.

This didn't stop Hope's heartbeat from quickening as the topic sprung up. He distracted himself by following Sazh's example and tugged at the yellow cloth on his left wrist, adjusting it over his own brand. From the corner of his eye, he peeked up at Sazh. The older man had assumed Hope didn't want to answer and went back to whistling a random, improvised tune, his tiny Chocobo tweeting along.

After the inky black arrows were entirely hidden, Hope opened his mouth to speak. "I gave her my scarf because—" he paused to wince, and Sazh halted his song to lean in, one eyebrow arched. "Because my neck was hot," he finished lamely, his explanation coming out in a meek whisper. Repeating the words amplified how stupid they sounded and brought a fresh wave of humiliation upon him, accompanied with a rush of blood that colored his skin scarlet.

It was obvious that Sazh didn't believe that such thin cloth could have caused Hope's neck heat issues, but, thankfully, he did not laugh at him. Neither did he bury his face in his palms and hide due to secondhand embarrassment, as Hope had mentally predicted.

"Dang," he said instead, dragging out the syllables. The abrupt interjection caught Hope's attention, and he squinted up at him. Sazh was wearing a mix of what appeared to be half of his trademark, easygoing grin and half a smirk of pleasant surprise. "I didn't know you had moves, kid. I'm impressed."

The remark caught him off guard, and as Sazh patted him on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner, the words sank in completely. Almost immediately, his cheeks became warm. Hope quickly dipped his head and pretended to be immersed in the glow of the pathway lights once more, hoping against hope that Sazh hadn't noticed anything—and, his stomach swirling at the very notion, that Vanille wasn't laughing about him right now.

Within seconds, he shook his head, changing his mind and pondering fervently to himself as the sound of a gathered multitude's clapping and cheering drew nearer. At least he'd given something Vanille to laugh about—and not the fake kind of laugh that she had forced through her teeth, but one where she would open her mouth and let it out, her pretty eyes squinting as she laughed, and maybe she would laugh so hard she'd have to clutch her stomach. And he found that he was okay with the scenario, because at least Vanille was laughing—even if it was at his own expense.


	2. Tide Turner

After Hope and Sazh disappeared into the distance and blended among the people in the back of the flocking crowd, Vanille felt her chin begin to wobble and her shoulders shake. The smile on her cheeks crumbled as she turned around and headed back to Nautilus Station, not making eye contact with the passerby, some of who gaped at her outfit. How easily her smile had disintegrated even after she had forced herself to wear it so assuringly gave her a sense of bitter surprise. She'd faked so many laughs, smiles, and cheerful words—most of which she rarely believed in herself but only said for the sake of others', like Sazh's and Hope's, inner well-beings—that she'd surmised, apparently wrongfully so, that she was a master at acting carefree.

Vanille moved swiftly to hide behind a potted tree as a group of young Nautilus workers, clad in uniforms of yellow, gray, and black, passed by on the way to the park square. Crouching next to the pot and concealing her face with the synthetic foliage, she listened closely to their conversation.

"What time is it right now?"

"Quarter to nine."

"And how long is the parade again?"

"I don't know… About half an hour, maybe? But doesn't the park close at midnight tonight?"

"Oh, right! I almost forgot." The girl exhaled a sigh of both relief and vexation. "I don't want to go home and study for my test tomorrow, anyway. I hope it gets postponed."

"Hey, hey, we should all watch the Chocobo races! I heard they altered the course this year. They made it harder, but supposedly the prizes are better than last year's."

"Are employees allowed to participate?"

One of them scoffed. "Yeah, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. You'd probably fall off before the first checkpoint."

"I would not! I've ridden a Chocobo before!"

"Holding it by the reins and walking next to it doesn't count."

Snapping his fingers as he was shaken with an idea, one of the male employees exclaimed, "I got it! We should all bet on the racers! That'd make it interesting."

Another one retorted, "With what? Our nonexistent money?" This earned a giggle from his female coworker, and he added, "While we're at it, why don't we all ask for raises and see where that gets us?"

They burst into collective laughter, and Vanille felt a sharp pang of envy in her chest at how true and debonair the teenagers' laughs were. There were stray Pulse l'Cie, dangerous threats to them and all the other citizens of Cocoon, roaming about their world, and yet, their biggest concerns that night were studying for exams and watching people ride on Chocobos. To them, the very idea of a l'Cie being anywhere near them was ludicrous. They were in a whole other universe, after all, separated from the l'Cie panic by Nautilus's force field, its endless expanse of noctilucent stars and sky; they would have never guessed that a Pulse l'Cie, armed with the capability to use powerful magic, was hiding from them just a mere distance away.

They couldn't be much younger or older than she was, but Vanille was terribly jealous of them. She was willing to give or do anything to be an ordinary teenager—to not have to worry about completing a Focus, to know with unshakable certainty that a future where she would turn to crystal or become a creature damned to suffer for eternity would never happen.

When they were out of earshot, Vanille let out a long breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. She gingerly got up to her feet and peered around the area. Save for a few scattered clusters of people lingering about the station, the place was empty. She found an isolated, unoccupied bench and sat down, claiming it for herself. Folding her hands in her lap, she stared blankly ahead.

The wide, high-definition television that had been broadcasting a sports game earlier was now tuned in to the parade. On the screen, throngs of spectators could be seen either standing or sitting on the floor, waving shiny silver disks in the air, their necks craned upwards as they all stared at the sky expectantly. Everyone was smiling, and Vanille felt a sort of hollow happiness as she observed them. Though the event was only a short stroll away from where she was, it seemed as if she was watching something from a faraway land in a different time period, and, no matter how hard she'd try, she wouldn't be able to reach it and be a part of it.

Because she didn't deserve to—these were the people whose lives her foolish actions had affected, or would later inevitably come to affect. She was given no choice, for there was no possibility of a happy ending. Not for her, not for anyone. Fulfilling her Focus required her to transform into Ragnarok and destroy Cocoon, this beautiful world she had come to love as much as her home. Her heartbeat nearly stopped as she thought of millions of people being killed in Ragnarok's widespread path of destruction. Vanille shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples, willing the vision to stop before it drove her to insanity.

She considered the only other option, but it was equally disastrous. If she were to ignore her Focus, the fal'Cie would only continue to victimize more people. Vanille had been on this path, refusing to acknowledge her Focus and putting up fake acts around others. She remembered with a sudden sting in her eyes where this had gotten her so far. She thought of Serah and Dajh, both of whom were far too young to be burdened with the mark of a l'Cie, and yet had been branded by the fal'Cie because of her actions. She thought of Snow, Lightning, Sazh, and, finally, of Hope, who had seen his mother die right before his eyes. And now Hope was a l'Cie, and it was because of her. It was her fault. Everything was her fault.

The ache in her heart became unbearable then, and before she knew it, her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably and a familiar hot wetness filled her eyes as her vision blurred. Tears began to spill over, streaming down her cheeks. When she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself down, she only gasped and choked, and the tears became stronger, flooding her flushed face. Her broken breathing was audible and she could sense the attention of a few strollers being drawn to her, but when she tried to pull herself together, it only worsened. She managed a "sorry", though it came out garbled and incomprehensible.

Vanille stood up from the bench, turned so that no one else could catch sight of her face. She set her short light beige boots carefully on one of the bars of metal and leaned over, holding onto the railway to look at the water below. Little by little, her teardrops fell, infinitesimal above the endless sea, and though she narrowed her eyes and strained to see, the tiny ripples her tears made were lost among the waves. With such vicinity to the sea, she could smell the life within it and feel the ocean spray caress her skin. She continued to perch there like a seagull as she waited for her erratic breathing to lessen in its irregularity.

When she was relatively calmer than before, she returned to her seat on the bench. Her arms fell to her sides; she perked up with interest as her fingers brushed against a piece of thin cloth that was hanging from the small pouch around her waist. She pulled it out, wiping away some more tears that lingered at the bottom of her eyes, and examined her find.

It was Hope's scarf. Vanille had been so immersed with herself, drowning in her own despairing thoughts, that she'd temporarily forgotten she had it. Seeing it now, even amidst her fragile state, made her smile—the first sincere one to grace her features in a while—as she dwelled in gratitude over his sweet, subtle kindness. Hope didn't know it, but she admired him, perhaps more than she admired Sazh or Lightning or Snow. He was strong, stronger than she could ever be. She found this fact pleasantly ironic, for wasn't she older than him?

She reminisced then on when they'd first met; Hope had been unstable, staggering on the verge of tears, that she'd felt immense sympathy for him and thus stayed by his side, encouraging him to follow after Snow. Still, the role she'd played was minor, for it was Hope's own resolve that had led him to start the engine of the aero bike they'd ridden to the Pulse Vestige.

Since then, he'd begun to change, and Vanille had watched his gradual metamorphosis with the fascination and pride of a friend. In the Pulse Vestige, it'd been Vanille who had led the two of them while Hope had followed, silent with fear, regret, and uncertainty. But during their time in the Sunleth Waterscape, Hope had stayed at her side, Airwing in hand, scanning the area for enemy creatures as they traversed. Vanille remembered gazing at the side of his face as he stood next to her, wondering how they had switched roles all of a sudden and when he had become braver and more mature, exceeding her in mental age. She'd closed the distance between them and held on to his arm, suppressing a laugh when he'd jumped at the physical contact and turned to look at her with stunned, widened eyes. But he hadn't pulled away. He had only nodded, grinning sheepishly, and they'd stayed like that. Even in retrospect, she could feel the same air of security surround her.

She traced invisible lines with her fingertip along the middle of the cloth. It was soft and smooth to the touch, and when she ran it across the back of her hand, it felt nice and light on her skin. With a smile of vague amusement, she wondered if Hope had bought it himself or if his mother had chosen it for him. Until he'd given it to Vanille that night, he was never seen without it—even when he slept, he kept it on around his neck. So why had he given it to her? She had no answer for this.

Usually, Vanille found Hope quite easy to read. She knew when there was something bothering him, and she would speculate about the reasons. Her guesses were never too inaccurate. But this time, he'd scurried off at the speed of a Cactuar before she could thoroughly study his face for any hint of an explanation.

She turned the neckcloth over in her hand. It was a pretty, pale teal, a color similar to his eyes. She realized this with a curiously fuzzy sensation in the pit of her stomach. Vanille would never admit it aloud, but Hope had the most striking pair of eyes she had ever seen. Every time they looked each at other, she would become mesmerized in a sort of trance where everything but Hope would fade into a clean, white nothingness.

Just yesterday, she'd fallen into it so deeply that she hadn't been able to snap out of it for longer than normal.

It had been dark in the Rain-spotted Vale of the Sunleth Waterscape, and the cool Cocoon night was filled with crisp, damp breezes not peculiar to the area. Sazh had discovered a cave that conveniently hid them from the native creatures nearby. Spacious enough for the three of them, they'd decided to spend another night there. Sazh had gone off, wandering about the area in search of firewood. While he was away, she and Hope had disregarded his order of staying inside the cave, stepping outside anyway to experiment with spells they were still unfamiliar with. Somehow, within a matter of minutes, it had turned into a Water spell fight. They'd both laughed loudly, paying no mind to the volume of their voices, as they casted orbs of water in their hands and hurled them at each other.

Envisioning the scene, she held Hope's neckerchief up to her mouth and smiled. The ephemeral moment had been only yesterday, but she still desired to relive it. For a few minutes, they had been free.

But trouble had eventually come to greet them, as it often did ever since their fateful encounter with Anima. Absorbed in their childish game, neither of them had noticed the small audience of Hedge Frogs that they'd attracted with the sounds of splashing water. One of them had leapt at Vanille, sinking its sharp teeth into her ankle. Though she'd received a small gash, she hadn't been too bothered by it—back in Gran Pulse, one had to learn to live in harmony with the other creatures, and achieving this did call for some cuts and bruises along the way.

Hope, on the other hand, had been a panicky mess. After he'd scared away the Hedge Frogs with a Thunder spell, he'd shifted all of his attention to her. Sputtering numerous, unintelligible apologies though it had been Vanille's idea, he rushed her back to the cave. She'd insisted more than twice that she would be fine after a while and that there was no need for him to be in such frenzy, but he had ignored her, stubbornly believing that it was a serious situation due to the crimson rivulets of blood running down her skin. He had then proceeded to use every ounce of his energy in casting multiple Cure spells, one after another, on her injury. Standing no chance against Hope's barrage of healing magic, the cut had disappeared. Hope had looked so proud of himself, as if he'd accomplished some great, herculean task, that she hadn't stopped herself from giddily wrapping her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over.

After they'd both calmed down, they came to a mutual agreement not to tell Sazh of the little incident, even if he asked why there we soaked. And then they'd sat there, facing each other, in the dim stillness of the stone cave, waiting for him to return. No one had said a word, and, because she couldn't see or hear much from him, Vanille had guessed that the tired Hope had fallen asleep. She, too, had been about to let herself doze off when soft chanting echoed off the rock walls, and before she could reach over and shake Hope awake in alarm, a gentle flame had appeared just a few feet away from her, hovering above his hand. And it had been then that their gazes met each other's.

Immediately, all of Vanille's thoughts had scattered, melting away into hazy insignificance. In her head, the vision of his face at that time was as clear as a professional photograph. His chrysolite eyes had been soft yet intense, and, under his stare, she'd become paralyzed, rendered unable to look away. She remembered with crystal clarity the feeling they generated in her, and it gripped her all the same as she reminisced. It'd felt like all of the elemental spells had been cast on her at once, resulting in one big, wonderful explosion of sensations—Firaga caused every inch of her skin to burn up with fiery bliss, Aeroga tossed her twirling and flying into the sky, Thundaga sent currents of electricity running through her veins, and Waterga crashed a tidal wave over her, calming yet enlivening her at the same time. She remembered wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but because logic had ultimately dominated over her desire, she hadn't. She didn't know if it was a good thing that she hadn't jumped on the impulse or if she'd regret it later on; had she let the only opportunity she'd ever get slip through her fingers? Overcome with exhilaration, she'd just remained sitting, speechless and immobile. In both her two lifetimes on Gran Pulse and Cocoon, Vanille was sure that she'd never experienced such a thing before.

Inspired by the memory, she decided then that she needed to stop this upsurge of sorrow. Her tears were futile; unlike rain, they wouldn't wash any of the dirt in her path away. "Get a hold of yourself, Vanille," she murmured with a sniff. If the efflux of tears got any worse, she would end up resembling a puffy red tomato, and Sazh and Hope would know for sure that something was wrong. The last thing she wanted was to be a killjoy, for Sazh to drop everything and make a fuss over her or for Hope to give her that worried, pensive stare of his, like he had done so before they'd left for the parade. They each had their private, separate things to stress about, and Vanille having another moment of misery over acknowledging reality was her own personal issue.

She sucked in a breath, pointed her chin in the air, and squared her shoulders. Closing her eyes, she receded into her mind once more, delving into the images that came to life, each one sending delightful tingles to her fingertips and toes. She took another deep breath, allowing herself to be whisked away into happier thoughts.

Naturally, she saw Fang, the most important and most amazing person in her life, first. She missed her greatly, but seeing her, even this phantom version of her, greatly dulled the sharp, heavy throb in her chest. Fang beckoned her forward as she stood there, with all her strength and fearlessness that Vanille had always lacked and therefore greatly treasured her for, appearing in the middle of the blank darkness. "It's going to be all right, Vanille," she said in that low, confident tone that never failed to make Vanille believe in her words. "Long as I'm here, nothing's going to happen to you."

Sazh materialized next to Fang, waving at her with the big, cheesy grin Vanille always loved to see. "Hey, Little Red," he said in his relaxed drawl. "Now, I don't have any idea who this lady is"—he gestured toward Fang with his thumb—"or what I'm doing here, but I do know this—I'm with her, and I'm not letting anything happen to you, either. So don't worry, and stop crying your pretty eyes out." His grin softened to a smile with the caring, tender gentleness only a father could have, and she knew she was lucky to have him as part of her family on Cocoon.

Vanille giggled quietly and whispered, "Okay." The flow of tears had in fact diminished, and the pang in her chest that'd been suffocating her just minutes before was faltering.

She was just about to open her eyes when her mind conjured a third figure. He was shorter than her, but not by much, and his hair, longer than she saw on most boys, was silver. His pale, twinkling eyes looked like they'd been carved out of a gemstone. With a smile, Hope said her name and reached out for her hand, and that stopped her tears altogether.

Vanille opened her eyes again. She was sitting by herself, under the bright white lights of Nautilus Station. But after everything she'd just seen and experienced in her head, she found that she was already tired of being alone, wishing instead for the company of Hope and Sazh.

Standing up, she smoothed her skirt and the bear pelt she wore around it, and began to walk to Nautilus Park. She clung tightly to Hope's neckerchief, holding it close to her, partly to keep it safe, but mostly because—though it did pale in comparison of size and utility with her Binding Rod—it made her feel safe.

She mused with a small smile as she walked. What would Fang say if she saw her now, like this? She entertained herself with speculations of Fang's possible reactions. Would she laugh? Knowing Fang, she most definitely would. But she would laugh in her lighthearted, endearing way.

Still, Vanille knew she was going to be made fun of. Fang was her childhood friend, after all; they knew each other too well. Ever since she could remember, Fang had never let an opportunity to poke fun at her go by without seizing it and taking it as far as it could possibly go.

Vanille imagined Fang would say something along the lines of, "Well, well, well. Look who's got it bad. I always knew you'd get a crush on someone sooner or later, but on a guy who's younger than you? Tsk, tsk. Never saw it coming. Got to say I'm shocked, Vanille." Then, after insulting her taste in guys and calling her a couple of names for fun, she would chuckle and hit Vanille lightly on the top of her head, and Vanille would know that she was only joking. "I'll bet you this Hope kid feels the same way. Why wouldn't he?"

And even though she could hear Fang's voice but she wasn't actually there teasing her, Vanille found herself replying with a big, silly grin on her pink face. "I hope so."


End file.
